


How things have always been. And always will be.

by Sintari



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-11-15 14:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintari/pseuds/Sintari
Summary: ...It was the way how the Inquisitor behaved around Dorian. The casual backslapping after an especially snarky remark or blatant joke from Dorian, hand always lingering a little longer than appropriate on the mage's half-bared shoulder. Lavellan would always choose his left shoulder, which the 'Vint for whatever reason preferred to wear less armour on. Revealing a tempting glimpse on smooth tanned skin over well defined muscles. When the Inquisitor finally pulled his hand back, his fingertips would absent-mindedly trail the rim of one of the many leather strips, ghosting slowly over what was exposed beneath. And the Bull couldn't unsee how the 'Vint had started to lean into these little touches, ever so slightly and subtle, like it was a mere coincidence but the Ben-Hassrath inside him could clearly see what was happening there. And he didn't like it...





	1. There's something off there.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't uploaded anything for quite a while now but I finally found time and the mindset to write again. I wanted to update my other story first but this one kind of wouldn't leave my focus. So I thought, why not - Dragon Age Inquisition it is! I hope you'll enjoy it and please be forgiving, I'm no native speaker ;)
> 
> I chose to feature a male mage Lavellan Inquisitor, like the one I play, but he would never hurt poor Dorian the way he does in this fanfiction. Oh, the things you do to clear the way for the Iron Bull... 
> 
> I tried to stick to the canon and use some of the original dialogues, but I had to rearrange and adept things a little, so it would fit better into the whole picture. 
> 
> Also - spoiler alert - there may or may not be some scenes that might be new to you if you haven't finished the game yet.

They had once again left for the Hinterlands, probably to gain even more trust from the locals by searching for more stray pet animals to be rescued from demons and other nonsense. As if they didn't have other severe problems at hand. Like finding a way to stop Corypheus and his evil plans. But for whatever reasons the Lord Inquisitor Mahanonn Lavellan had decided to turn his back on their greater problems and focus on minor ones instead, taking his favourite Inner Circle group, consisting of Dorian, Sera and The Iron Bull with him. If someone had asked the Qunari for his opinion on their 'mission' he had straight out declared that this was nothing but a pure waste of time. All rifts they knew of in this region had been closed by now and even the fights between rebel mages and templars had finally come to an end.

They had found another ocularum though and after a long day of running around and collecting weirdly humming magical shards, the sun had finally started to set. Their group had reached a small glade by then, just perfect for a little camp to be set up and spend the night at. The area seemed as save as it could be theses days and they hadn't run into any fight for the entire day, so it was no wonder that the general mood was rather relaxed and companionate. Maybe it was good to take a break from their 'severer problems at hand' just for once after all. Coming to the Hinterlands was practically nothing more than taking some days off for a little field trip to an area they had already mostly pacified. Just to make sure everything was still fine and no new trouble was going to break loose. And to distract oneself with a scavenger hunt for singsonging pieces of glass apparently.

When night had started to fall they were all still sitting around a cosy bonfire, talking and laughing. Sera had dug up some bottles of Orlesian wine somewhere, which the four of them were now happily sharing. Apparently not the good one, but the piss-like-tasting one, like their Tevinter mage kept repeatedly pointing out. Which only earned him a bitchy remark from the rouge, featuring a really bad wordplay at the 'Vint's expense. Sera and Dorian kept on exchanging banter for some while then. Like they'd known each other their whole lives. Not like they only had met a few months ago, being thrown together by some weird magic shit like all of them had been.

They've gotten along surprisingly well, despite their conflictive origins. They all had. And he could count himself in, as well. It still was nothing compared to when being around his Chargers, though. Him and his boys had a connection that went way deeper, given all the things they'd gone through together after all the years. But the potential was there. He had noticed weeks earlier, how they'd all started to bond. Sharing more and more bits of their own personal background stories and small details about their personality when being together in a restful moment. Just like now, Bull realised while he let his gaze drift off to his companions, studying them.

There was Sera. Being around her was fun. She was always chatty, but she didn't like talking about her past. She always brought up various other subjects though. Most of which were none of her business, but she kept on babbling anyway. She was an easy to get along with type if you agreed with her personal point of view on specific things. If not, well, let's say she was less fun when someone like Vivienne was also part of their little field trip party.

The inquisitor had a simply fascinating personality but was not keen on sharing too much personal information either, given the fact that he was a Dalish mage, not really that much of a surprise. He had probably hardly met any human or Qunari before all of this had happened. Hiding away in the woods like those Dalish people normally do. And then all of a sudden, he became the Herald of Andraste, the Lord Inquisitor – a leader of so many people who all had their eyes upon him. Glorifying him even. Maybe he was afraid that whatever picture his comrades might get when he revealed too much of his former life, wouldn't fit their expectations.

But he was a good leader. A charismatic and a really handsome one, too. Too elvish looking for the bull's taste though. Too lithe and too easy to break obviously. Mahanonn was a good person – this much he could tell. He always tried to help his companions - he even would probably prefer calling them his friends by now – and tried to spend most of his time with every single one of them whenever possible. But there was also a slight change in his behaviour lately, the Iron Bull could tell.

It was the way how the Inquisitor behaved around Dorian. They were sitting right next to each other, sharing a blanket to sit on while warming in front of the crackling fire. They shared the same blanket with Sera though. It all looked perfectly normal, the Inquisitor being framed by two of his Inner Circle people with the Bull sitting on a stump right next to the Vint's left. If only it weren't for the casual backslapping after an especially snarky remark or blatant joke from Dorian, hand lingering always a little longer than appropriate on the mage's half-bared shoulder. Mahanonn would always choose his left shoulder, which the 'Vint for whatever reason preferred to wear less armour on. Revealing a tempting glimpse on smooth tanned skin over well defined muscles. When the Inquisitor finally pulled his hand back, his fingertips would absent-mindedly trail the rim of one of the many leather strips, ghosting slowly over what was exposed beneath. And the Bull couldn't unsee how the 'Vint had started to lean into these little touches, ever so slightly and subtle, like it was a mere coincidence but the Ben-Hassrath inside him could clearly see what was happening there. And he didn't like it.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the 'Vint – oddly as that might sound – he had long proved himself to be a helpful and reliable party member. Loyal without doubt. Irreplaceable in some situations even. Burning his own countrymen to ashes without hesitation whenever they had to confront Venatori in battle. But it still felt wrong to see the Inquisitor so familiar with Dorian. Looking at him and earning the most perfect smile from the 'Vint in response, whenever he became aware of the Inquisitor's attention on him. It just simply didn't fit. The Iron Bull couldn't quite name it yet but something felt wrong there.

While only listening with half an ear to the ongoing argument about whether Dorian did or did not laugh like a real Tevinter, the Iron Bull started to focus on named 'Vint. He couldn't really figure out that one yet. Growing up in Tevinter as a Magister's son must had taught him how to marvel at hiding away one's true self. Just like his own Ben-Hassrath training had taught him. But in a totally different way. With much more bravado and sparkles. Dorian wore his demeanour and smile like an armour. Bright and almost arrogant even when openly insulted or spit upon. The Iron Bull couldn't help but wonder what lay underneath that perfectly shaped and beautifully controlled mask that was Dorian's face. _The pretty ones are always the worst_. And the Vint _sure_ was pretty. Too bad he was a Vint. And a mage... But the Bull had to admit that he liked looking at him.

Especially in situations like these. When Dorian's attention was focused somewhere else while the glowing reflection of fire was dancing over frustratingly flawless dark skin. When the 'Vint occasionally closed his eyes and threw his head slightly back with a cheerful bright laugh – _no way at all did it sound anything like Sera was picturing an evil Magister's laugh._ When the effort of maintaining a thoughtfully chosen composure slowly faded and the real Dorian finally began to shine through. Those occasions were rare though, but they always were given away by a certain spark in the mage's eyes and how his facial features suddenly seemed even softer... The slender hand of Mahanonn was back on Dorian's shoulder yet again, pale thin fingers brushing less subtle over smooth exposed skin this time. And the Bull couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to touch that skin.

Then the Inquisitor rose to his feet and bid them goodnight before smiling at the 'Vint and heading for his tent. It sure had gotten late already and the wine was nearly gone by now. Sera looked rather drunk and sleepy and vanished into the other tent shortly after, leaving the Qunari and the Vint to themselves. The Iron Bull welcomed the following silence with only the occasional crackling of fire or the faint swashing sound of an exchanged bottle to disturb the nightly tranquillity the Hinterlands apparently had to offer on nights like these. When he felt the fatigue slowly crawl up his spine and into his muscles he started to stretch a little, making his neck crack pleasantly albeit a littler louder than he intended to. It promptly earned him an annoyed glare from Dorian who'd gotten torn out of his wandering mind.

“So, who's it gonna be?”

“Pardon me?” The 'Vint raised an perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Who's gonna take the first watch shift? It might have been a really calm day but we shouldn't let down our guard nonetheless. We're not travelling with scouts this time.

“Huh. You're probably right for once the Iron Bull.” Dorian answered but didn't offer to comply to the task himself.

“Alright. So I guess I'll take the first shift then.”

Dorian simply yawned in response and nodded with a small smile before bidding goodnight himself and heading towards the same tent the Inquisitor had retreated too. The Iron Bull really didn't mean to eavesdrop. He didn't. Really. But he simply couldn't ignore the quiet giggling and whispering that started as soon as the 'Vint had pulled the cloth of the tent-door shut behind him. Seemed like the Inquisitor wasn't nearly as half asleep as the Iron Bull had thought he was by now. He couldn't make out any words or sentences. Maybe there even was a remarkable lack of them. But that was none of his business. And that's when he finally realised what it was that bothered him. The thing that was wrong there wasn't that it was _Dorian_ who was close to the Inquisitor. It was _the Inquisitor_ being close to Dorian _._ Bull couldn't help but feel a slighty gnawing emotion somewhere. But he wouldn't dare to admit that to himself. For now he had to focus on potential dangers out there in the nightly wilderness.

***

In the following weeks the Inquisitor spent a noticeable amount of time with the Tevinter mage. Whenever they were in Skyhold he would be hanging around the library, claiming to study the origins of the oculara and those magical shards, without actually making any provable progress. It was also striking how that spark in Dorian's eyes had started to manifest itself every time Mahanonn was around him. It somehow prevailed. The 'Vint wouldn't dare to admit it, but every now and then, when he felt unwatched, a small smile would spread over his face. A genuine one.

The Inquisitor sure had taken a like on the 'Vint. Whenever he decided to go on another field trip with his favourite Inner Circle group, it was an outspoken agreement that the both of them shared a tent, the Iron Bull had noticed. But it _still_ was none of his business because they both were Bas Saarebas and whatever it was that was going on between them was _fine_. Because the Iron Bull had no interest in either of them. He preferred them less demon-vessel-ly and less vint-y. And he got plenty of willing candidates who applied to these preferences in the tavern each night.

Since their studies didn't bring them any steps further, they continued their search for more oculara and other magical shards like those they had found in the Hinterlands but in other regions instead. They had ventured to the Exalted Plains this time and had spent the last few days cleaning abandoned forts from hordes of the undead and demons. Then, one night, Solas suddenly appeared in their camp. He claimed that some friend of his – a spirit actually – needed his help, because she – do you even apply a gender on spirits? - had been summoned against her will and was now kept in slavery by some mages. Mahanonn immediately offered his assistance and so they left the camp early the next morning, leaving The Iron Bull back behind. Which he really didn't mind much. Because spirits and mages always included some weird magic crap. And he sure got enough weird magic crap going on all day already.

It was close to sunset when Sera and Dorian finally returned to the camp. Only the two of them. They gave the Iron Bull a short recap of what had happened. That they couldn't save the spirit from it's doom and how Mahanonn let Solas kill the responsible mages before he ran off towards the elven ruins. And how the Inquisitor went after him. The 'Vint didn't seem all too happy about the two elves running around by their own when night was about to fall. But they both were all grown up and highly skilled mages who were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. They'd already cleaned the area around the elven ruins from corpses and ghosts some days before anyway. So it was mostly save ground there. But Dorian still didn't seem pleased.

It wasn't until the first rays of sunlight fell into the camp when Solas and Mahanonn finally returned. Must have been one restless night for the 'Vint, who had volunteered to take three watch shifts in a row for the first time ever. No wonder he was still asleep when the two elves decided to join the camp for breakfast. The Iron Bull, who got up early this morning, immediately could sense that something had changed - again - when the two elves had come into his view. Maybe it was the Dales with being the homeland of elves and all that old creepy elven magic stuff and all those creepy elven ruins. So maybe, with Mahanonn and Solas both being elven mages, maybe they had some weird magical family reunion thing ignited last night. But they definitely seemed more connected than before. Walking oddly silent but with a strikingly different posture towards each other. More familiar. Closer. Maybe he should let Dorian sleep a little while longer. The whole scenery could as well be easily misinterpreted.

Solas decided to stay with them and not return to Skyhold for a while. The two elves had found a hidden entrance to another yet unknown elven ruin the night earlier, and he wanted to take his time exploring whatever secrets and wisdom may be hidden within. The Inquisitor seemed to share his excitement. Whenever Solas left for another expedition, Mahanonn accompanied him. It was only the two of them, even though Dorian was always the first one to offer his assistance, but the Inquisitor kept turning him down. He assigned them to other tasks instead. Like extending their current camp. And collecting herbs and materials for their requisition orders. Sera decided to leave for Skyhold the next day. Claiming that there's a mission to be prepared for the red Jenny, but according to Dorian's opinion she was simply bored out of her mind. And she didn't like elven things, so it was not much of a surprise that she wanted to leave the Dales as soon as possible.

It was the third day already that the two elves had left the camp on their own and the 'Vint kept vocalising his dislike of their current situation on every given occasion. Complaining about the waste of time, staying behind while they could clearly be of more help elsewhere. Or about the weather, the quality of their bedrolls, the lack of hygiene of his party members, the poor taste of the food and whatever not.

The Qunari and the 'Vint had spent most of the day collecting elfroot. They clearly had enough to cover a month' demand by now already. The mage was right in some points. Wasting the capacities of two skilled companions on something like gathering herbs and flowers didn't make much sense given to their still prominent greater problems at hand.

It was early evening and the both of them had settled around the camp's fireplace once again. Once again Solas and Mahanonn hadn't returned from this day's expedition yet. They would always return long after the sun had set and they would always leave early the next morning. No time being wasted on much conversation. Just the occasional new order given about how the rest of them should structure their day until the Inquisitor's return from the ruins.

“If only I have to eat this poor excuse of a stew one more day, I will gladly hand myself over to the undead in hope they will have enough mercy in their rotten bones to end my misery.” Dorian dramatically overemphasized his disapproval with a disgusted groan after swallowing some of the mentioned stew. Always complaining. Always putting on a show.

The Iron Bull patiently listened to Dorian's complaints but the words that stood out the most were the ones not said. He could read them in the lines that formed on his forehead, when the 'Vint furrowed his brows, while he was staring into the flames of the fire. Brooding over why the Inquisitor avoided him, when just days ago he wouldn't miss one minute of Dorian's company. Was it something he had said? Or done? Was it Solas? What was happening? All those questions were clearly written over the 'Vint's pretty face and the Iron Bull silently studied him while his mask had slipped this far for once. The spark wasn't there, but there was something like doubt in his eyes, maybe it was fear.

“I'm pretty sure Solas doesn't swing that way, if you ask me.” The Iron Bull's words instantly triggered a well known series of reactions in Dorian. Straighten your back, shoulders drawn back, head slightly cocked, control your face and now smile.

“I have absolutely now idea what you're talking about.” And there he was, in his full armour, invulnerable and feigning ignorance. Stupid proud 'Vints. The Iron Bull regretted that he even had touched on that topic the instant the words had left his mouth.

“...ye-ah... of course. Listen, Dorian, if you ever feel like...I don't know...” _Awkward._ Why did it feel so awkward to talk about this? He had listened to his Charger's romantic problems, whenever they needed someone to talk to. Why was this so different? The Bull wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what exactly had happened between the 'Vint and the Inquisitor. The thought alone gave him a weird chill in his stomach. “I mean – if you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

“Why would a Tevinter mage want to talk to a Qunari spy about _what exactly_? There is nothing to talk about anyway. Stop imagining things.” Dorian did his best not to look the Bull in the eye when he rose to his feet and straightened his robe in a poor attempt to emanate annoyance and grandeur. He failed miserably for once. The Qunari could clearly see that he had hit a nerve there, but he didn't want to push the topic any further.

“Just so you know.” So he simply shrugged the topic off and turned his attention back to the untouched pot of stew, he was still holding in one hand and let the 'Vint walk away in dignity. He took one spoon and slightly grimaced. Dorian wasn't so wrong about it. He should make sure that tomorrow, he'd go pick some herbs that could be used as spices alongside the elfroot. That was if the Inquisitor still did not come to his senses and stopped wasting their time. 

Solas and Mahanonn actually did return earlier this evening. They had found some elven relics and glyphs, so apparently it was a rather successful day for the two of them. Since this time the others weren't asleep already, they finally reported everything they had found out so far. The both elven mages were all head over heels and trailed off in heated discussions with each other on various points of their explanations. The Iron Bull had a hard time understanding even half of what they were talking about, while Dorian didn't seem as interested as he should be, since he was a mage, too.

The 'Vint was listening to everything Mahanonn had to tell, smiled and commented whenever given the opportunity and everything probably seemed perfectly fine to the untrained eye, but the Bull could see that Dorian wasn't really into it. His eyes constantly on the run, studying the Inquisitor with uncertainty. Like everything inside him was screaming to bring this story about elven artefacts to an end and talk about something else or maybe make a run. But he remained his patience. So they kept sitting around the fire, eating some more horrendous stew and listened to the two elves.

It took another hour until the 'Vint finally got a chance to speak to the Inquisitor alone. The Iron Bull was still sitting close to the fire, but even in darkness he could clearly see them standing in front of the tents. He couldn't hear what they were talking about though, but he saw the Inquisitor nodding and then both of them started to walk away from the camp. _Maybe searching for a place where no-one can disturb them._ The Bull had to remember himself that it was still none of his business and swallowed around a lump that started to build in his throat.

The Inquisitor was the first one to reappear not long after they had left. The Iron Bull wondered why he was alone but the look on Mahanonn's face clearly displayed that whatever conversation him and Dorian had, must have been rather unpleasant. The Qunari decided to not interfere.

It took an unsettling amount of time for Dorian to finally return to the camp. The Iron Bull nearly got up twice to go search for him in the meantime but he kept on reminding himself that everything was probably fine and that the 'Vint maybe just needed some alone time. He had watched the others bidding goodnight but decided to stay awake although they did have scouts this time and he could as well retreat to his own tent and get some sleep. But he couldn't. Not until Dorian was back. So it was a relief, when the mage finally came into his sight. Swaying a little while clutching something in one hand, but unharmed. His steps were a little lazy when he approached the fireplace then he let himself plop on the ground next to the Bull, less graceful than he would normally use to.

“Look at what I've found!!” Dorian's words were slurred while he leaned towards Bull, over dramatically presenting an old bottle. “Tadaa~! Seems like the Inquisitor isn't the only one who can find hidden rare bottles of booze in the middle of nowhere! So sorry, finders keepers.” Despite his words he still handed it to the Qunari who cautiously sniffed before taking a sip. That stuff was strong, no wonder the 'Vint was far beyond drunk, given most of the bottle's content was already gone.

“Too bad, would have been a nice addition to his collection.” The Bull took another sip and didn't give the bottle right back. Maybe the 'Vint should slow down a little.

“...wouldn't it?” The smile on Dorian's face started to fade away, ever so slowly, until it was a mere ghost of a smile, still he kept it painfully in place while his eyes were wandering off into the flames. He remained silent after that for a long while and it started to freak the Bull out. The 'Vint wasn't the quiet type. Whenever something was off, he would rather start to ramble or complain but he wouldn't be that silent. Without his bravado, Dorian suddenly seemed a lot more vulnerable. The Qunari resisted the urge to say something – anything – and gave the mage all the time he needed instead.

“He is... he's incredible, isn't he? The Inquisitor. He is so amazingly nice and gentle that one might start to forget...” Dorian was the one who finally broke the silence and the Bull lifted his head and looked at him, not able to meet his eyes that were still focused on nothing in particular, looking right through the flames into nowhere.

“Forget what?” He finally asked when he didn't get any further explanation on the statement. It took Dorian some time to continue.

“How things have always been. And always will be.” The mage averted his eyes from the fire then and looked directly at the Iron Bull. Face tired and strained. Words heavy on his tongue and slightly slurred with a stronger Tevinter accent than he normally had.

“Dorian, that doesn't make any sense. Are you okay?” The Qunari started to worry about the 'Vint then. He had known Dorian in various drunk versions – funny, bitchy, arrogant, flirtatious. But never had he been like this before.

“Am I not, aren't I? Making any sense to you?” A little sigh and another thoughtfully crafted smile, a little too broad in its finish due to the level of alcohol, but still not broad enough to cover up the hurt in Dorian's eyes. Another fake smile. The kind of one the Bull wanted to rip out of the Vint's beautiful face. All together with the sadness that left a glittering reflection in the corner of Dorian's eyes. “I'm fine. Don't worry. Totally fine even.” He hesitated as if he needed to recollect himself a little. “I just thought that maybe this time...” He let out a low humourless laugh while carelessly running his outstretched fingers over his closed eyes. “Forget it. Everything is perfectly fine _._ It was a very foolish thought to begin with.” Swaying dangerously, the 'Vint got up to his feet and tried to straighten his posture. The Iron Bull got up as well and stepped closer, just so he could support him in case the 'Vint lost his balance and would fall into the fireplace. Turned out he didn't need any help, which left the Bull standing awkwardly close to the other man.

There was a small smear of kohl beneath the corner of the Vint's left eye and the Iron Bull couldn't help but focus on it. Before he could stop himself from reaching out, his hand had already touched Dorian's face. He carefully wiped the thin black smear away with his thumb while his eye followed the trail of his finger. The 'Vint was completely frozen, staring at the Iron Bull. And the Qunari just stared back at him before he finally remembered to pull away his hand.

“Maybe you should get some sleep, big guy.” The Bull tried to give the best reassuring smile he had.

“H-hm... guess you're right...” Dorian let his eyes wander to the tent he normally shared with the Inquisitor, then back to the fire. “..I think here will do just fine.” Before he could let himself slump back on the ground, two strong Qunari hands stopped him midair.

“You don't seriously want to sleep outside? Aren't you the one constantly complaining about Southern climate?” And just like so he dragged the mage along with him towards his own tent. It was the only one currently not occupied as far as he knew. Dorian started to complain again at last, but followed him nonetheless.

It was funnier than the situation should give away, to watch the drunk Tevinter mage trying to get out of his armour. Constantly stumbling and cursing in the darkness of the tent. At some point the Qunari couldn't watch it any longer and started to help him with the insane amount of buckles and straps. Why would anyone voluntarily want to wear something so complicated? Dorian for once gladly accepted the help and let himself slump boneless into the bedroll as soon as the Bull picked the last piece off him. It left a tempting view on exposed tanned skin and muscles and the Qunari's fingers itched to just give in and touch, but it wouldn't be right. Not now. So he just tugged a blanket over the 'Vint and silently watched him fall asleep before he finally settled for the night as well.

 


	2. Foolish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is shorter than the first one, but I liked the ending and thought it would be a better break than the one I originally intended. :) 
> 
> Also it's written from Dorians POV this time...

When Dorian woke up the next morning, reality slapped him so hard in the face, that it took him some time before he realised various things. First, why the headache? Oh right, he had been drinking obviously. That he was used to.

Second, that gnawing echo of a feeling he should remember right now but didn't want to. But never mind – 3,2,1 – there it was, the complete and utter recollection of everything that had happened, coming back at once. _Last night. The Inquisitor. Their talk._ It wasn't Mahanonn who was to blame. He never made any promises nor did he give the wrong impressions. It was his own fault, Dorian's. Again. To read between the lines, to see things that weren't there.

The third thing to realise took him a while longer but instantly tore him out of his thoughts, when he started to take in the world that surrounded him. He hadn't dared to open his eyes yet, but he could feel the pillow beneath him lift and fall in a steady rhythm. Also, it wasn't a pillow, as repeatedly touching it with a flat hand confirmed. Dorian _did_ open his eyes then and was met by a broad grin on a Qunari face.

“What the...?” He jumped backwards in a catlike motion that would have made Sera proud of him, but left his head spinning with a pulsating pain. He should really start to reconsider his drinking behaviour. And decisions. Wait did he make a bad decision last night? A quick check and no, neither of them was naked – so apparently he did not. At least one relief.

“Good morning, big guy! And just in case you're wondering. No, we didn't.” The Bull gave Dorian a dirty grin.

“Of course we did not!” The 'Vint started to distract himself by rashly collecting pieces of his armour from the floor.

“Can change that though, if you're interested...” The Iron Bull got up on one elbow and watched as the other man started to dress himself.

“Eww... that's...argh!” Dorian froze in his doing and gave the Qunari a stink eye.

“You sure? The way you sleep-cuddled me last night didn't leave much room for interpretation...” The Bull's grin grew even wider.

“Kaffas! I very much did not sleep-cuddle you last night! And I don't want to hear another word about it!” The mage fixed the last buckles on his armour in a hasty motion before storming out of the tent. That he could not handle right now. Sleep-cuddling the Iron Bull. Ridiculous. He currently had other things on his mind. No need to pull a Qunari in.

The camp was peaceful and the morning sun promised good weather for the day ahead, but Dorian didn't really appreciate it. Everything was too bright and too cheerful. His head was still hammering and he wished for nothing more than being in his own room in Skyhold right now so that he could sleep away his hang-over, but he wasn't. So he tried to follow his morning routine instead. Washing in a river like a savage wasn't as pleasant as using a bathtub, but the cold water helped clearing his head a little. If only it could block out the constant rerun of yesterday's conversation as well...

 

“ _You seemed a little distracted this evening. Is there anything you want to talk about?_

“ _You're right. There is something I want. I want to know what is going on between you and me. We never really talked about it. And I don't enjoy being toyed with. First you're hot than you're cold. If this isn't leading anywhere, then say so. I am a big boy. I can take it.”_

“ _You caught me at a bad time Dorian...”_

“ _When is a good time exactly? We face death on a daily basis, my friend. The truth is... I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise. We end it here, I walk away. I won't be pleased, but I'd rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.”_

“ _Is there anything wrong with having fun? Why do we need to stop now?”_

“ _Because stopping later might be too difficult. I...am sorry I brought up this topic. In the middle of an excursion above all. I beg my pardon Lord Inquisitor...”_

 

“Dorian!” A voice close to the river bank tore him out of his memories. It was Solas. Of course it was Solas. Maker! “Dorian, the Inquisitor wants to talk to you.” The bald elf formally nodded when he was sure of the 'Vint's attention. “He awaits you in front of the tents.”

“Beautiful. I shan't waste any time then, shall I?” The Vint smiled, but let out an annoyed groan as soon as Solas was out of sight. He would have preferred to avoid Mahanonn until he had sorted out his own feelings. Not to face the sequel of their conversation so soon. He had pretty much stormed off yesterday, leaving the confused Dalish behind without waiting for a final answer.

However, if the Inquisitor wanted to talk to him right now, Dorian would obey. So he dried off, got dressed and went right back to where Mahanonn was waiting for him. No time to style his hair or to apply his kohl. How unpleasant – but well, he wanted to get over with it as soon as possible.

When he reached the meeting point, to his surprise, the Inquisitor wasn't alone. The Iron Bull was standing right next to him, arguing about whatever it was they were talking about. The 'Vint could feel his throat tighten. How much exactly did he tell the Qunari about what had happened last night? He could vaguely remember talking to the Bull but couldn't recall all the details. Maker! Why not discuss their affair in front of everybody?

“Dorian?” The Inquisitor welcomed the Tevinter mage with a gentle but insecure smile. “I'm glad you're here. We were already discussing our next steps. It's time to move on to a new mission.”

A feeling of relief floated through the 'Vint. New mission – yes, let's focus on something new. He looked at the Iron Bull who didn't seem all to pleased.

“Of course. What did I miss so far?” Dorian straightened his posture and did his best to finger comb his still damp hair into something more civilised. He could see the Iron Bull staring at him out of the corners of his eyes. It was irritating.

“I received a message from Skyhold early this morning. Cassandra and Vivienne are on their way to meet us in the camp. They've gotten new information on other potential threats here in the Exalted Plains. I assume that our further study on the ruins can be delayed.” The Inquisitor made a short break and started to nervously pick on the sleeves of his robe.

“Okay, so what does that mean exactly?” The Inquisitor's behaviour gave the 'Vint an oppressive feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It means that I want you and the Iron Bull to return to Skyhold. There is no need to have five of my most trusted people here in the Plains, when you are as well needed elsewhere right now. I'm sorry.” Mahanonn crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive behaviour. Dorian widened his eyes in disbelieve. He opened his mouth but he couldn't find any words to say.

“We spent the last days complying with requisitions. If there really are threats and possible fights awaiting you, it wouldn't make much sense to send us away now.” The Iron Bull had stepped in and crossed his arms over his chest as well. “What could there be in Skyhold that required our presence so badly?”

“Your Chargers, for example. They might need you to continue their training. You could also give Cullen a helping hand with new recruits.” The Inquisitor looked at the Iron Bull and then back at Dorian. “And we should examine the magical shards that we found here in the Plains. Maybe now, that we got more of them, we can finally find out more about their purpose. We should also start focusing on Corypheus again.”

“And with saying 'we' you mean 'I'.” The 'Vint tried his best not to sound disappointed.

“Yes, actually. I also thought that the two of you would welcome a little timeout. I've been dragging you along my expeditions for quite a while now. You might want to recover a little from the last weeks.”

“A rolling stone gathers no moss. I prefer action rather than twirling one's thumbs.” The Qunari let out an annoyed snort.

“I have made my decision. I'm not willing to discuss it any further. You will leave for Skyhold as soon as possible.” Mahanonn's voice was strict then. “Dismiss.”

The Bull grunted something in Qunlat before he turned around and stumped away. The Inquisitor made a move to leave as well, but was held back by a hand on his arm.

“You're sending me away? Is this your way of dealing with what I've said?” Dorian's words were faltering and the Dalish mage didn't move to face him right away. His head dropping a little, before he finally turned around and looked at the 'Vint.

“I'm sorry Dorian. I didn't mean to hurt you.” Mahanonn tried his best to smile, but it was a rather sad and constrained little smile and it hurt the 'Vint even more than any words probably could have done. “About yesterday... I wasn't prepared for a confession like this. It's just...I never really thought this way. Everything I've experienced so far was physical and didn't go beyond that... I _do_ care about you, Dorian, but I'm not ready to commit myself to someone... especially in times like these. It would be rather foolish.”

“What a very Tevinter thing to say...” Dorian loosened the grip of his hand and let it fall to his side again.

“I'm sorry, but I guess you were right. It's the best for both of us if we stop it here. Please, don't hate me.” And with these words and another sad smile, the Inquisitor walked away while Dorian stayed behind and watched him disappear between the tents.

 

Getting ready for departure took Dorian longer than it ever did before. All he could focus on was a deafening numbness that was spreading through his body and mind. Every now and then he would pause in his movements and simply stare at his gathered belongings for long moments as if it was too hard of a burden to go on and continue packing. It was the right decision to send him back to Skyhold though. In a condition like this, he was of no use for anyone. He could see that.

_What did he think?_ He shouldn't have been so stupid to fall so hard for the Inquisitor. Of course he would heal again. He always did. It wasn't the first time someone broke his heart. And he had his ways and routines that would help him cope. But right now, he couldn't take it. With a sigh, Dorian placed his hands firmly over his eyes until he started to see small dancing stars. Maker! _What did he even expect?_ He would grant himself five more minutes of grief. Here. Alone. In the tent he used to share with the Inquisitor. And then, everything would be fine. He would be fine. And he could go on. That he was used to.

 


	3. Shards and keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, it took me longer to finish this one, but it also turned out to be longer than I originally intended :) Have fun! 
> 
> I'll give my best to update once per week, so stay tuned!

Their journey back to Skyhold was a two days march and it turned out to be rather exhausting. It was only the two of them – Dorian and the Iron Bull – and the oppressive silence that radiated from the 'Vint was close to unbearable. The Qunari could picture what the problem was, but he knew better than to touch on the topic again. He had tried before and had failed miserably. He was also pretty sure, that their sudden transfer had something to do with it. It would be too much of a coincidence if it hadn't. Good thing that the Inquisitor decided to send them away right ahead. It didn't leave the Iron Bull the opportunity to punch the Dalish in the face. Because that he didn't want. Or maybe he did want to, but it wouldn't be okay.

It hurt him to see Dorian like this. He preferred him snappy and annoyingly 'vinty. But right now, even the mask he was hiding behind was different. No smiles this time. No sparkles and no brilliancy. Just a mask made out of stone. He looked perfectly indifferent, as if nothing was of any importance to him. All his feelings safely locked away inside. Only someone who really knew him could tell that this probably meant the worst.

The Iron Bull just wished that he could somehow reach Dorian, so he started to talk about whatever came to his mind. Dragons, his Chargers, the Qun - it didn't bother him much that the result was him talking in monologue and not a real conversation, but at least, so he thought, it would distract the 'Vint a little. Nothing good ever came out of brooding in silence.

They had taken the main road, that had led them to the outer regions of the Exalted Plains. The landscape was different here and the Qunari welcomed it. Their surroundings resembled less of an abandoned battlefield and more of a thick forest that melted with old ruins and collapsed houses instead. Their path was framed by old trees and was winding through massive rock formations which indicated their approach of the Highlands of the Dales. But it would surely take them some more hours before they reached the outlying districts of Emprise du Lion. They planned on spending the night in the outer Inquisition camp there.

The Qunari was currently talking about how he once got lost in the woods of the Emerald Graves with his Chargers, when Dorian suddenly turned around and faced the Bull with an annoyed groan, blocking his way. _Good. Finally a reaction._

“Could you _please_ shut up for just one second? You keep on incessantly moving that big chatty mouth of yours for hours now! Can you not give me a break? My ears are ringing already!”

“Oh look, it can talk!” The Iron Bull stood with his hands on his hips and slightly cocked his head. “I started to wonder if you maybe swallowed your tongue...”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Did it not come to your mind even once, that I simply might not feel like talking?”

“Maybe it's just the topic? We could talk about something else. Like you sleep-cuddling me last night. I think we haven't fully discussed that yet.” The Qunari had a broad grin on his face. If annoying the 'Vint did the trick, he could do that and annoy him some more.

“Vishante kaffas! Won't you ever stop this? I would never, under any circumstances sleep-....” Dorian was interrupted mid-sentence, breath knocked out of his lungs, when the Iron Bull suddenly tackled him, pushing him backwards, stumbling, dragging him along, until his back collided with a cold stone wall, his staff digging painfully into his spine. It all happened so fast, that Dorian didn't realise _what_ had happened. “Fasta vass! What are you..” A broad hand instantly covered his mouth. The 'Vint started to panic and tried to free himself, but the Qunari had pinned him against the wall with the full weight of his body.

“Ssh...Venatori!” The Bull's voice was a low rumble, his lips close to Dorian's ear, and the spoken words were only a mere whisper. He had seen something between the trees, a movement, and then the reflection of sunlight on metal plates. An emblem in the distance – an amphitere and a serpent. It wasn't his aim to startle the 'Vint, but they needed to get out of sight quickly, so he had dragged him along to the ruin of a collapsed house that happened to be there close to the roadside. There wasn't much left of it, only bricks and pieces of walls, but one corner was still quite intact. It barely left any space to hide, but it was their best chance to stay out of sight.

He gave the 'Vint an apologetic look and pulled away his hand. Dorian stayed silent this time and kept staring at the Bull's face. It was a rather distracting situation. Feeling the mage's body pressed so closely against his own. _Focus Hissrad. This is not the time._ Dorian squirming beneath him didn't help it much.

“Stop moving!” The Bull tried to observe their enemies' movements through a crack in the wall.

“You're crushing me, you big fat Lummox!” Dorian's voice was a little strangled and the Bull rolled his eye at him. He supported one forearm on the wall next to Dorian's head and tried to shift his weight as much as the wall's remains would allow him without giving away their cover. It left him leaning over Dorian even more. The Tevinter mage stopped moving then but kept staring at the Bull with a hard to read expression on his face. _Too close. Way too close._

“One brute, two zealots and three more. Maybe stalkers and marksmen.” The Qunari evaded Dorian's eyes and tried to focus on the Venatori instead. They were really close already. He could hear them talking in Tevene.

“They are searching for something. Some kind of 'keys' apparently.” Dorian held his voice quiet as he started to translate.

“Hm. We should find out what kind of keys...” The Bull looked back at the mage. “...and keep them from finding them.”

“Are you crazy? It's six against two – maybe even more. Did you see a mage? There always is at least one mage...” The 'Vint didn't continue, when he heard the Venatori coming closer. They were passing by the ruins of the house and then stopped.

Why did they stop? The Qunari leaned in closer in a weird angle. He didn't want his horns to give away their cover and it made him hunching over Dorian with their faces awkwardly close. It didn't leave him anywhere else to look but in the mage's eyes. The Bull could picture various other situations in which he would like to repeat this, but right now it was a bad idea to get lost in those eyes.

The Venatori were discussing something, but the Qunari couldn't really understand much. His Tevene never were that good. But it seemed like they weren't aware of Dorian's and his presence yet. When the cultists finally decided to continue their way and were out of auditory reach, he started to draw back a little.

“You know what, Dorian? You don't need that kohl. I like your eyes just the way they are.” The Bull grinned at the 'Vint who looked absolutely taken aback. As if he just remembered that he didn't finish his morning routine before they left the camp.

“Seriously? You're coming up with something like this now?” With an annoyed sigh he pushed the Qunari off him, which he only happened to accomplish because the Iron Bull let him. “So – what's the plan? Do you really want to confront them?”

“We have the element of surprise on our side.” The Iron Bull was already reaching for his battle axe. “But we shouldn't give them too much of an advance. I'll take care of the brute and the zealots. Do your magic thing with the rest of them. Ready?”

Dorian moved away from the wall and took a hold of his staff. “Let's say hello to my fellow countrymen then.” He nodded and off they ran. It wasn't an easy fight and the mage had a hard time handling three deft opponents at the same time, but the Bull trusted him and his skills and completely focused on the other three Venatori instead. The 'Vint had cast a wall of fire to separate their enemies into two groups and the Bull could hear buzzing sounds of lightning going down on the rogues and the archer shortly after. He himself made short work of the two zealots but the brute was harder to get on with. He was surprisingly fast for someone of his figure and the Qunari had a problem with gaining the upper hand. The last attack had thrown him down to the ground and he tried to get up again while evading slashes from the brute's axe.

Suddenly, there was a flash of purple and creepy shadows started to form out of thin air around the brute. _Dorian._ The Bull took his chance as long as the Venatori warrior was distracted and delivered the final blow. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the 'Vint approaching him.

“Well that was fun. I could do this all day!” The mage stopped in front of the Qunari and with a grin he offered him a hand. The Iron Bull gladly accepted and let Dorian help him to his feet while giving him a smile.

“Thanks for that creepy purple shadowy thing back there, big guy.” The Iron Bull made a gesture towards the dead brute.

“A horror spell...” The mage shrugged it off as if it was nothing and started to turn his attention towards the dead Venatori instead. “So let's see if we can find any information on why they were here, shall we?”

When they started to investigate the warrior's remains Dorian suddenly jerked back, fingers tightening around his staff, then he swung around. He must have sensed something before the Bull could even realise that a burst of flames was about to go down on the both of them. He could only do as much as duck and shield himself with his axe. Then he already felt the fire burn on the skin of his left arm, but only for a split second before a blue light started to surround him in flashy waves. A barrier. Dorian had pointed his staff towards the Iron Bull, the crystal on its top was shining in a silvery blueish glow until it suddenly changed its colour to a darker violet spectrum. The Bull could see how small bolts started to dance around it. With another skilled motion, the mage swung his staff back to the other direction and unleashed an inferno of lightnings. The bolts were surrounding him, running right through him while he conducted them and they let him blaze with raw power. _Damn that was hot._

Despite the state of emergency they were currently in with all those flames still going down on them, held back only by a magical barrier, the Qunari still found the time to focus on Dorian. He had to admit that there was a special kind of grace in his way of casting spells. It was like a dance. A deadly one. And the Iron Bull was more than glad that him and the Tevinter mage were on the same side. Then the fire suddenly stopped and the Qunari could see a figure dropping to the ground in a short distance.

“Kaffas! See? I _told_ you there is always a mage amongst a Venatori group!” The 'Vint turned around and let the blue shiny light that was still surrounding them disappear with a single gesture of his hand. Then he came closer and looked at the Iron Bull. “Are you okay? I'm sorry, I couldn't cast the barrier in time.”

“I'm fine, don't worry. A little crispy maybe, but I'll live.” The Qunari grinned and got up to his feet again.

“Your arm...” Dorian reached out and took a hold of it.

“It's nothing. Really.” He wanted to pull it away, but let out a small hiss, when the mage carefully touched the outer rim of a burned patch.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not good with healing spells. We should search for any clues or keys on the Venatori real quick and then I'll take a closer look on your wounds. But I'm afraid we have to stick to more conventional medical treatment then.” The mage gave him an apologetic smile. They quickly shared a potion before they turned their attention back on the dead Venatori.

They didn't find much on the warriors and the rogues, but looting the mage turned out to be rather profitable. Amongst a mana potion and some money, he also had a little velvety pouch and a rather old looking book with him. Altogether with a letter of commands. Jackpot!

“Oh look! It's more magical shards. Hooray! That really makes my day.” Dorian spoke with a sarcastic voice as he watched the Bull open the pouch. “So, it looks like the Venatori are searching for them as well. It also says so here in their commands.” The mage pointed at some lines of the letter before folding it and stashing it away.

“Didn't you say they were talking about keys? That's what they are?” The Qunari picked one glass shard out of the pouch and examined it against the light of the afternoon sun.

“Can't you please put those away? This humming really gives me a headache!” He sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples “And yes, they did.” Dorian opened the book then and let his thumb run through the pages. The notes were written in old Tevene and were illustrated with various sketches. “I really hope they'll open the lock to one hell of a treasure chest! For all the trouble they are worth. Ha! Look at this!” The mage presented a page to the Bull. It showed a detailed drawing of an ocularum. “It's an instruction on how to make these. I _knew_ the oculara are Tevinter handiwork! I have to go through all this when we're back in Skyhold.”

The Qunari hummed while looking at the sketch, then turned his attention back to the shard. He put it away to the others and tied the pouch to his belt. In the distant, he could hear the faint sound of thunder and he looked up to the sky. The sun was still shining, but he could see dark clouds gathering at the horizon and the rustling of leaves indicated increasing wind. They had lost time with this encounter and the Bull wasn't sure if they could reach the camp in Emprise du Lion before the weather would swing.

“We should keep going. There's a storm coming. Maybe we should watch out for a shelter soon and spend the night here in the highlands. It will cost us some hours tomorrow but we should still make it to Skyhold before sunset.”

“I guess you're right.” The 'Vint studied the sky and started to collect their loot. “Better get going before it starts to rain. I hate rain.”

“I know.” The Qunari smiled at Dorian. “And the cold. And insects. So let's make sure we find something with walls and a roof.”

 

They continued their way and only stopped once for collecting some elfroot and do a quick treatment and bandaging of the Bull's arm. It started to rain two hours later and when they finally reached an old abandoned cabin dark heavy clouds had already completely filled the sky.

“We should give this one a try. It's sordid, but...” The loud rumbling of a sudden thunder drowned out the rest of Dorian's words. The Qunari just nodded in response while shielding his face from an angry gust of wind with his hands.

The door was unlocked and they hurried to get out of the rain. The cabin was rather small and was stacked with an insane amount of broken furniture and boxes - no beds though. It had no windows either, but the roof was intact and that was the only thing that the Iron Bull cared about at the moment.

“This is by far the most run-down place I ever had the questionable honour to spend the night at. Look at all this junk!” Dorian made an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. He complained some more until the Qunari started to collect various stuff that lay spread all over the floor and stashed it away in a corner. It took a while until the mage was mostly satisfied. He had even found some blankets and candles while tidying up the place. The 'Vint had cast a magical fire that 'wouldn't burn down this shabby shanty because it wasn't real fire, but it would still warm this place' and the Bull gave it a sceptical examination. Fire wasn't supposed to float. But neither were throwing around with lightnings and conjuring eerie shadows things that were supposed to exist... Mages were weird. Fascinating – he had to admit that. But still weird...

Their clothes were still soaking wet from the rain and they decided to let them dry and get some sleep. If they wanted to reach Skyhold before sunset they would have to leave early the next morning. Hopefully the weather would also play along. The Iron Bull tried not to stare when Dorian started to undress himself. He tried really hard but he failed nonetheless. And he was sure that the other man had noticed him staring but he didn't even comment on it for once. Nor did he stop opening the many buckles of his armour. Ever. So. Slowly. It was only when he started to take off his robe that he paused, a small expression of discomfort on his face.

“Sore muscles? I could give you a massage, if you want.” The Qunari had already taken off his clothes and was sitting in only his underwear on an old outspread blanket. He patted on the ground right next to him while wearing a broad grin on his face.

“I really appreciate the offer, but that happens not to be the problem.” Dorian continued to remove the robe and made a small hiss, when the the fabric slid over his back. The Qunari lost his grin when he saw that the exposed skin looked red and irritated. It wasn't as bad as the Qunari's arm, but it looked still painful. The fire from the Venatori mage must have had hit Dorian as well.

“You're wounded! Why didn't you say anything?” The Bull got up and helped the mage to get out of the robe.

“It's not that bad. And we didn't have much time to lose. It would have been too much of an effort.” The 'Vint wanted to shrug it off but got an serious glare from the Qunari in return.

“That's pretty careless Dorian. We did stop so you could take care of my arm. You could have said something.” The mage avoided the Bull's gaze and didn't find any words to reply. “And maybe, if you didn't wear clothes that need hours to get in and out of, it wouldn't have been much of a delay.” The Qunari sighed and hung the wet robes over the backrest of an old chair so they could dry. Then he paused for a moment and let his fingers run over the fabric. “Your robe doesn't look burned at all. It looks perfectly fine.”

“I am a mage who constantly yields fire at enemies. And I set value on my appearance as you might have figured out by now. My clothes are enchanted with fire protection obviously.” He made a pejorative gesture with his hand as if it was a stupid thing to question. “It would be rather unpleasant if my robes constantly caught fire whenever I cast a spell.”

The Qunari gave a thought at that. It made sense. “So why didn't you use this spell on yourself?” He gestured towards the blanket, prompting Dorian to sit down, while he started to search for some dressing material and leftovers from the elfroot in one of their bags.

“It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. There's a difference between an enchantment and a protection spell. An enchantment is permanent and it usually takes a considerable amount of time to project and maintain the magic in an object. Casting a spell only takes seconds but I can only cast one spell at a time.” He sat down and gave the Qunari a smile. “Sometimes you have to choose.”

And then the Qunari started to understand. Dorian had chosen to cast a magical barrier around the Iron Bull first. Which had left himself unprotected. And the mage had been standing in front of him, so of course did the fire hit him first.

“You didn't have to do this.” He sat down behind the 'Vint and started to carefully apply some of the elfroot compound Dorian had made for him some hours ago.

“Don't be stupid. My fire resistance is much higher than yours. The burns are mostly healed from the potion we shared earlier. They will be gone before we reach Skyhold and won't even leave a scar.” Dorian didn't flinch even once when the other man's fingers started to spread the substance evenly on the burned areas of his back. But the Qunari could feel him tense slightly under his touch.

“Hm. I guess I have to trust you on this.” When the Bull was finished, he started to wrap a bandage around the mages back, so he wouldn't rub away the compound while sleeping. He fastened the bandage with a knot and let his hand run over the thin cloth to smooth out its edges. “Just promise me to never keep back an injury ever again, okay?” Dorian just nodded in response.

 

They kept talking for a while then but once again it was the Iron Bull who did most of the talking. He had noticed the 'Vint withdrawing himself again over the evening. This time he would let him. It was impossible to constantly distract someone from his problems. Some brooding and reflecting just needed to be done. So he gave Dorian the time he needed to sort out his feelings. It was only fair.

After they bid each other goodnight, the Iron Bull couldn't fall asleep right ahead. He tried to let the sound of storm and thunder lull him to sleep but his thoughts kept constantly focusing on the man who was lying next to him. He couldn't really understand what it was that made him care so much for Dorian. He was attractive. Damn hot actually. No wonder that the Iron Bull wanted to fuck him senseless. But he was a Bas Saarebas after all. Still, the Qunari couldn't care less. And it wasn't pure physical attraction even. Seeing Dorian hurt made him angry. And sad. He turned his head as much as his horns would allow him and looked at the 'Vint. He was lying on his side with his back towards the Bull and seemed to be still awake as well.

“Can't sleep?” The Qunari waited but didn't get any answer. “Listen, Ben-Hassrath and all this, I can tell from the rhythm of one's breathing if he's sleeping or not.” Still no answer. “It's okay, if you don't want to talk. I just wanted to let you know that you did great today. And I don't really know what had happened but you...deserve better... Try to sleep. Good night, big guy.”

He reached over to Dorian's shoulder and gave him an encouraging squeeze. He couldn't resist to let his fingers ghost over the tanned skin. He hadn't dared to focus on the feeling of it when he had treated the mage's wounds. It was nice to touch, just as he had imagined. Before he could pull his hand back again, he could hear the faint rustling sound of a blanket, then he felt Dorian's fingers on his own. He didn't say a word or moved any further but his hand was still covering the Qunari's. The Bull listened to the sound of the 'Vint's breathing as he finally fell asleep.


	4. Crumbling walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter. Turns out that I can't advance in the plot as fast as I planned to. Too many feelings are happening. Hope you like it anyway :) And thank you for your comments :D

When they woke the next day, the storm had finally passed. It wasn't as nice of a summer day as it had been the day before, but they could continue their journey without any further interruptions. They didn't run into any enemies either. No Venatori this time. It was rather frustrating and boring. No distraction but the constant babbling of the Qunari. Dorian was grateful though. He didn't show it, but he appreciated the other man's attempt to brighten up his mood.

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but for once he was really glad that he had a companion like the Iron Bull. A Qunari. A Ben-Hassrath above all. But he was so surprisingly good at knowing how to pull the 'Vint's strings that it was nearly scary. He supposed that learning how to read and manipulate people was part of the Iron Bull's training in Par Vollen, but he wasn't entirely sure why the Bull put so much effort into him. It wasn't about extracting information, that Dorian was mostly sure of. He knew that the Qunari was still sending reports to the Ben-Hassrath but of what interest could a runaway Altus be to them?

No, that couldn't be it. Maybe the Bull was simply annoyed by the depressive mood that was hanging in the air and tried to cheer him up because he couldn't bare it? But than again, it wouldn't explain the looks he got from the other man. The staring when he thought it unnoticed, the smiles and the little touches. _The blunt invitation to bed him..._ The Iron Bull was a flirt. He would fuck his way through all of Skyhold if given the chance. Why stop at a Tevinter mage? He was also aware that the Chargers had an ongoing bet on how many scores the Iron Bull could reach in one month. It was a rather impressive amount so far. Dorian had overheard a conversation about it one evening in the tavern.

He didn't want to become part of that list. Yet another trophy. He had been that way too often. And he grew tired of being reduced to an object of desire. It wasn't that he didn't like being one. Dorian knew he was good looking and he put much effort and high value in it. He was aware of the effects he had on men and it wouldn't be unlike himself to comply if the other one was appealing enough. There was nothing wrong with occasional sex just for the sake of fun and release and under normal circumstances the 'Vint maybe would have taken up on the Qunari's offer, but the timing was rather inappropriate. Which was weird because sex always helped him coping with problems. Last night he had been tempted for a second, when the Bull had touched his shoulder, to just turn around and let the Qunari distract him some more. But he hadn't felt like it. Right now he was feeling nothing at all. Dorian had long before learned how to safely lock away everything that troubled him. Growing up in Tevinter as a Magister's son wasn't easy. Things were more complicated there. Feelings were a weakness. So you learned how to turn them off. And if you didn't succeed you learned how to hide them at least. So he did just that.

Passing through the outer districts of Emprise du Lion and climbing the Frostback Mountains was as unpleasant as Dorian remembered. He was more than glad when they finally reached Skyhold right before sunset. Just as they had planned. But entering the inner ward didn't give him the feeling of relief he had hoped to find there. It evoked sudden memories of the day they left for the Exalted Plains instead. How they got ready for their expedition, joking and saying goodbye to their other companions. When things between him and the Inquisitor were _still_ _a_ _thing_ and he wasn't aware yet of how they would turn out. A recollection of lost bliss. It hit him like a shock wave and he could feel his inner walls crack and crumble under its impact. _It was too much._

When they made their way further into the courtyard, Cullen and Blackwall approached them as soon as they were aware of their return. They started to ask various questions about their encounter with the Venatori which was the very first thing the Iron Bull had come up with when the templar had asked about their journey.

“So the 'Vints are searching for those shards as well?” The Grey Warden couldn't hide his suspicion and reservations when he started to eye Dorian. The mage couldn't suppress a small frown. He was used to such treatment from Blackwall and normally he would smile it off and leave him be, but right now he couldn't handle this. He could feel his emotional armour growing thinner every second.

“No, it's not _'the 'Vints'_ who are searching for the shards.” Dorian did his best to keep his voice calm and maintain a polite but strained smile. It was exhausting. “It's the Venatori. There's a difference, you see...”

“Are they or are they not from Tevinter?” The bearded man cut the mage off mid-sentence while he crossed his arms in front of his chest and furrowed his brows. Dorian started to subconsciously clench his fists at the hostile undertone that was swinging with the other man's words.

“Meaning _'the source of everything bad and evil in the world'_?” He could feel his smile fading but couldn't do anything about it. The muscles in his jaw were tensing unpleasantly as he tried to keep his voice down but something heavy and suffocating in his throat let the words come out with a sharp edge. “They are the same, yes?”

“Certainly feels that way at times.” Blackwall gave him a warning glare. He never made it a secret that he didn't trust Dorian. He followed the Inquisitor's order to fight alongside the mage any time given but whenever Mahanonn was not around, he wouldn't put any effort in getting along with the 'Vint at all.

“The Venatori are a cult that are not sanctioned by the Tevinter Imperium in any way!” The mage didn't care any longer if he raised his voice now. _It was too much._ “Not all Tevinters are the same!”

“Corypheus is one of yours, isn't he?” The Grey Warden's voice was harsh and he leaned in more towards the mage in an offensive posture.

“One of mine? Like a pet? Like a giant darkspawn hamster with aspirations of godhood?” Dorian wasn't even aware of the tiny little sparks of energy that started to dance around his fists. _Too much._ He couldn't handle something like this right now. More accusations. More mistrust. Everything buried deep inside him started to scream.

“You know what I mean, mage! You keep on talking about how you are not all the same, when every time _I_ meet a 'Vint they are all pretty much the same.” Their conversation had picked up on volume and had drawn the attention of the other people towards them.

“And here I stand, the evil Magister who pretends to be your alley while all along it was just an act so that I could collect all this precious information about the Inquisition and share it with my old friend Corypheus. Oh how much you have figured me out Blackwall! Never mind that he had tried to kill me as well. It was just an accident for sure.” Dorian spit his words out with venom and they felt bitter on his tongue. He couldn't fight all those locked away feelings any longer. They started to tear down whatever was left of the walls he had built around them and he could feel his mask shatter and fall. The air around them started to hum with electricity, unnoticed by the mage but not by Cullen and the Iron Bull who looked at each other with concern, ready to step in if necessary.

“Don't give me ideas, 'Vint!” Blackwall gave him another vicious glare while he took one step closer to the mage, then he added in a hostile but low voice, so no-one else could hear, “if I ever find out that you gaining access to the Inquisitor's bed, is some kind of plot... Don't think I haven't noticed what's going on.” Dorian heard the distant sound of thunder then, not aware that he was about to move forward, until a Qunari hand suddenly held him back on his shoulder. He gave the Iron Bull an enraged look and tried to pull away when he felt his other hand closing around one of his wrists. It was only then that he got aware of the sparks that let his hands glow with electricity. Surely everyone had noticed it by now.

Dorian felt sick all of a sudden. He hadn't meant to attack Blackwall. Yet here he was. Held back by the Bull just a split-second before he could unleash thunder and lightning on the man in front of him. For just one moment he had lost control. What if the Qunari hadn't stopped him? Dorian didn't dare to picture it. With an expression of horror he stared at his own hands. The sparks of energy were fading away now but he could feel the people who had started to surround them stare at him. He heard them whispering. Without meeting anyone's eyes, Dorian shook the Bull's hands off him and headed towards the quarters. Great. Now everybody thought he was about to loose it. He felt how his whole body started to tense and tremble but did his best to maintain whatever was left of his poise as he passed them by. He had already made a scene. He didn't want to add even more drama.

 

 

When he reached his rooms, he threw the door shut behind him with an angry growl and leaned against it with his back. No, he wouldn't cry. He didn't feel like crying. He threw a furious fireball towards a small carpet instead. Anger and hurt tightened his throat and he felt like he was suffocating. Dorian stared at the flames and tried to focus on his breathing. Oh Maker, how he hated it here in Skyhold. Most of the inhabitants avoided him. And those who did not still questioned why he was here. He couldn't even blame them. After discovering that Corypheus, once a Tevinter Magister, was responsible for all those rifts and demons, it had confirmed once again that everything bad always came out of Tevinter.

He didn't regret his decision to join the Inquisition, but all the hospitality he was confronted with each day was exhausting. It was draining him. And he started to miss his home. Everything was so very different here. He missed warm summer days and the Tevinter climate. Food he used to eat and liked ever since he was a little child. His friends and unworried times when there was no Corypheus and no Venatori. Tevinter architecture and culture and even the luxury that he had left behind - maybe he was a spoiled prince after all, but he had been raised into certain standards and it was hard to get accustomed to the rough life he was confronted with since he decided to run away from his father.

But the thing that made it hardest for him was that Dorian didn’t have the impression that he was truly welcomed here. There was Sera, of course. And Varric. And the Iron Bull. They treated him like a friend and didn't mind where he came from. In a way they were all outcasts. Maybe that was what connected them. But the rest of them? Even though he got along with most of the other Inner Circle members, he still got the impression that they never truly cared about him. Or simply didn't realise when remarks had gone too far or inconsiderate comments were misplaced. When words started to hurt and hit a nerve. He could act like the invulnerable Tevinter Altus with sparkles and bravado, poise and arrogance, but in truth he simply wasn't. The Inquisitor would always have cheered him up in times like these but now the Inquisitor was gone too. Dorian covered his face in one hand and took a deep breath. Why did he have to ruin it? If he hadn't insisted on talking then maybe...

He was pulled out of his self-pity by the sound of a careful knock on his door. With an annoyed sigh Dorian closed his eyes and tried to block out his surroundings. No, he didn't want to see anyone right now. He would ignore it and pretend that he wasn't there. Another hesitant knock. “Dorian?” It was the Iron Bull's voice that came from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

The mage rolled his eyes and considered not giving an answer but he knew that the Qunari wouldn't let him get away so easy. So he mustered all the grandeur he could come up with before he turned around and finally opened the door.

“I'm fine. Excellent. Never have I been better my whole life before.” The mage was propping his hands on both sides of the opened door, blocking the way into his room with his body, as if to make a point of not being in the mood for company now. He didn't smile or put any effort in concealing his anger either.

“What happened down there with Blackwall?” The Qunari cocked his head and spoke with a soft voice. When did he decide to be so annoyingly nice and caring? It was increasingly irritating. Dorian started to chew on his lower lip and avoided any eye-contact.

“I lost my temper. I am thoroughly sorry, because I didn't mean to. I promise it won't happen again.” He wanted to close the door at that, but the Iron Bull held it back with one strong hand.

“Blackwall is an idiot...” The Qunari tried to meet Dorian's eyes and leaned against the door in a casual manner that also made it impossible for the other man to throw it shut in front of him. “What did he say to you?”

“You simply can't leave it be, can you?” The 'Vint let out an annoyed sigh while letting go of the door. “It wasn't anything that I haven't heard plenty of times before.” No, he wouldn't mention the other man's threat concerning Dorian's motives towards the Inquisitor. It was none of the Bull's business.

“And yet it made you lose your temper...” The Bull was studying him in a way that made Dorian avert his eyes again and swallow around a lump that started to build in his throat, “Dorian, can I come in?”

The mage hesitated for a moment but stepped aside with an overacted gesture of invitation then. “Of course. We have hardly spent any time together lately, haven't we? I have started to miss you already.”

The Qunari ignored the sarcasm and entered the room. It was the first time that he saw the 'Vint's quarters and he took his time studying its interior before he turned around and faced the other man. “Uh, I don't want to startle you, but your floor is burning...”

Dorian just rolled his eyes at that and extinguished the remains of the flames with a swank snip of his fingers. “I've always hated this carpet. It had been here before I moved into this room. I was just doing some preparations for redecoration.” He walked through the room and sat down on the edge of his bed. Arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, posture tensing - ready to justify himself.

“Ye-ah, sounds like a normal thing to do. Listen Dorian, I'm not here to blame you for anything. I just want to help you.” The Bull's words were soft and caring but the 'Vint didn't want to hear them.

“Help me?” Dorian let out a humourless laugh. “How could you possibly help me? Is there anything wrong with me that I should be aware of?”

“You mean despite you nearly wreaking havoc on a Grey Warden?” The Bull made a frustrated sound and approached the mage with slow thoughtful steps until he reached a small table next to the bed and leaned against it. “Maybe you should stop being so 'vinty and step over your stupid pride for just once and tell me what's wrong with you.”

“There is nothing 'wrong' with me. It's really just an exhausting time we live in. Too much has happened. Rifts in the sky, demons and all that. We will all probably face a horrendous death soon. You know, stuff like that. Daily business.” Dorian let his hands fall to his sides again and started to clasp the frame of his bed in a strong grip instead.

“And the Inquisitor?” The Qunari's words made the mage's whole body tense at once. The skin over his knuckles straining and paling until it was nearly white against his else tanned skin. He let his head slump forwards while exhaling a strangled breath.

“Ha. Don't you even have the decency of getting out of my affairs?” He spoke in a quiet voice but shot an disgruntled stare at the Bull from under his eyelashes.

“So there is an affair? Or maybe.. _was_ an affair?” The Qunari studied Dorian's every move. The shifting of his muscles when he slowly straightened his back and lifted his head so he could look up into the Bull's face. How the ends of his moustache started to twitch when his jaw tensed even more.

“I can't see how this is any of your concern!” He kept his voice down but his words got a cutting edge again.

“I'm not stupid. I can count one and one together.” The Iron Bull cocked his head again while he let himself sink more against the table. “I may not be good with Bas' feelings and all that stuff, but I know that if you keep swallowing too many things down without giving time to digest you will eventually throw up.”

Dorian looked at the Qunari with a disturbed expression. “What kind of metaphor is that?”

“I told you I'm not good with this stuff.” An encouraging smile spread all over the Bull's face as he shrugged his impressive shoulders. “I don't want to push you. But I really have the impression that you need someone to talk. Unless you want to canalise it with toasting Grey Wardens that is...”

The mage averted his gaze in defeat. He knew that the Qunari was right. Savage and indelicate as he was he had made a point. “ _Fine..._ I will give consideration to your offer. But right now I would really welcome some silence and solitude.” It was an honest answer.

“Okay.” The Iron Bull nodded and pushed off the table. “As I said – I won't push you.” Before he reached the door he turned around once more. “I think I owe you a drink for that barrier magic thing yesterday. I'll be at the tavern tonight. I would be glad if you joined me.”

Dorian just smiled a little at the offer and watched as the other man carefully closed the door behind him.

 

He didn't go to the Tavern that night.


	5. Rumours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - but it's the longest chapter so far ;)  
> I hope you like it!

The Iron Bull had expected that Dorian would not take him up on his invitation for a drink that night. What he hadn't expected however was that the mage didn't show up in the tavern the following nights either. It was rather unusual for Dorian. Everyone knew of the 'Vint's inclination to alcoholic beverages and even when he wasn't in the mood for company, he would at least show up at the bar and buy a bottle or two to take along and leave shortly after. But even that wasn't the case. The Iron Bull had paid close attention to the tavern's door every evening he had spent there, which was pretty much each and every evening and night whenever he wasn't out on a mission. But he hadn't seen the Tevinter mage sneaking into the tavern even once.

On the fourth day the Qunari had made up an excuse to go to the library prior to his training with Krem, but Dorian wasn't at his favourite place close to the window. Helisma claimed that she hadn't seen him since the day of their departure to the Exalted Plains. Which was even more concerning, because the 'Vint loved his books and the library and the Bull was pretty sure that he spent more time reading on this pompous thing of a chair than he spent time in his quarters. The creature researcher promised the Qunari to inform him as soon as she saw the Tevinter mage again. Not without asking if the rumours about him and the Grey Warden were true. Which the Iron Bull couldn't quite deny but he did his best to assure her that Dorian was neither a threat nor going to turn into an abomination any time soon. Those Tranquils always gave him the chills. The mere implication of the necessity of certain rites to control dangerous mages made him frown. He could never picture Dorian like that. Like Helisma was. Indifferent and empty on the inside. A short memory of what the Qunari did with their own Saarebas flashed right trough him.

The Bull blocked out those thoughts as he reached the stairs that lead down to the throne room. He started to wonder if the 'Vint had left his quarter at all after the incident with Blackwall. All of Skyhold had been talking about their fight for the last few days. It was an inevitable consequence and the Qunari was sure that Dorian was aware of it. Maybe he wanted to hide away in his rooms until the peak of rumours subsided. Not to face questions and fears like those the tranquil mage had right now. It wasn't an easy time for him already with whatever emotional burdens he had carried around for far too long. Adding even more weight would only make it worse.

Most people had prejudices against people from Tevinter even before Corypheus' appearance. Demons, rifts in the sky, Venatori and the threat of another blight had only made it worse. The Qunari had never really wasted a thought about it because Dorian had always warded off any hostile comments with a polite smile and a snotty answer. But lately, the Bull wasn't so sure any more if the 'Vint was really as confident and indifferent as he always pretended to be.

When he reached the hall his eyes fell on the doorway that lead to Dorian's quarters. The Qunari was tempted to just turn around and go check on the mage, but he had made a promise not to push him. He had offered his company and help – that was all he could do. Now it was Dorian's turn to take up on it or leave it be. If he preferred to be alone and hide away, the Bull would accept it and wait until the mage changed his mind. Problem was that patience wasn't a strength of the Iron Bull.

Not when he was so oddly obsessed with something. Something he couldn't even describe or understand. He closed his eyes and turned away from the doorway with a frustrated sigh. Krem was probably at the meeting point already. He didn't want to make him wait any longer.

 

It was hard to focus on the training. The Iron Bull wasn't really into it. A sudden tackle after a decked strike from Krem even sent him stumbling a few steps backwards. He found his stance again and parried the impact with his shield, but still – it was rare that someone of Krem's size and figure succeeded in throwing him off his balance.

“You got a little rusty being the Inquisitor's goofer, chief.” His lieutenant had a victorious grin on his lips. “Or maybe you're just getting old...”

“Nice one, I have to give you that.” The Qunari rolled his shoulders and stretched the muscles of his neck, then he got into battle stance again. “Any more tricks? Or is this all you've got?” The 'Vint grinned at that and lifted his shield before he dashed forward for another attack.

Krem showed no mercy on his commander that day. The Bull had to admit that he had gotten much better since their last training. His lieutenant must have trained with Cassandra when the Qunari had been away on missions. He could see a resemblance to the Seeker's combat techniques in the way Krem moved when he shifted his weight. More light-fooded and elegant. Still he followed the basic rules the Bull had taught him.

The Qunari was truly impressed of the progress his Tevinter Charger had made over the past few months. He had finally found his own fighting style. Now he was testing it, improving it. And the Bull had to admit that it became more and more of a challenge to keep the upper hand. There was still much Krem had to learn though. But the Qunari started to wonder if maybe some day he wouldn't need him any longer. It was a rather depressive thought.

“Hey Krem, is there a little Seeker's influence I see there?” The Bull grinned when he saw his lieutenant freeze for a split-second. He took his chance and parried the 'Vints attack with a shield bash that knocked the smaller one's sword out of his hand.

“She's a good sparring partner when you're not around, chief.” Krem shrugged as he turned around to pick up his weapon that was lying in the grass a few steps behind him.

“Sure~...” The Bull lifted one eyebrow and had a wide grin on his face when he saw a faint flush on his Charger's cheeks as he turned around again. He should remember to ask for details in the tavern later.

 

After they finished their training the Qunari met Cullen in the war room. They discussed the progress of the new recruits and the status of ongoing operations in Orlais and Ferelden. The Inquisitor had sent a request to clear and reinforce a collapsed passageway to Ghilan'nain's Grove in the Exalted Plains some days ago. Chief Engineer Bernardine's report to Cullen that had arrived early this morning gave a short initial inspection: _Elven ruins. Ancient. Largely structurally unsound. Mortar damp and crumbling. Recent damage to load-bearing walls. Claw marks._

More creepy elven ruins. The Inquisitor really couldn't leave one out. The mentioned claw marks gave him a weird chill in his stomach though. What could be big and strong enough to tear down a whole passageway? The Qunari felt the urge to be there and help his comrades. Three mages and one warrior were not the best choice to face a creature that was responsible for something like that.

“Bernadine requests ten strong workers, two junior engineers and two guards for security. As well as three wagonloads of squared oak beam and one hundred seventy kegs of brown ale. Ha! One hundred seventy kegs!” The blond Templar put the paper back down on the war table with a sonorous laugh. “Bernadine you old drunkard!” He finger combed his hair with a sigh before he reached out for an ornamented pin and placed it on the correct position of the Exalted Plains on the map. “I will induce the recruitment and preparations for the operation subsequent to our briefing. The Inquisitor is aware that the save and secure reinforcement of the passageway will require a few days' work. He wrote a short note below the Chief Engineer's report to inform us that he and the others will return to Skyhold in the meantime. Without any unforeseen occurrences they should return tomorrow around afternoon.”

The Iron Bull was taken aback by the announcement. He welcomed the Inquisitor's decision to leave the Exalted Plains. Too much time had been wasted there already. But he wasn't really sure how Mahanonn's return would affect Dorian. It was something the mage inevitably had to face sooner or later. The Bull just had hoped that it would be rather later than sooner. After he had the chance to talk to him.

“I really wish we had more time before Inquisitor Lavellan's return!” The Qunari blinked at Cullen's words with his eye, a look of surprise on his face. “The new recruits' progress is not as well-going as I expected it to be. Our operations in the Storm Coast are delayed in consequence of harsh and unsteady weather. And on top, two of his most trusted people had started to go at each other's throat.” The Templar let out a long and frustrated sigh as he stared at the war-table. He looked tired and exhausted. The Bull wondered when it was the last time that Cullen had taken a day off. Or had slept more than only a few hours.

“Don't be too hard on yourself. None of this is any of your fault. Especially not the fight between Dorian and Blackwall.” He approached the blond man and patted on his shoulder in an assuring gesture. “Have you heard anything from the two of them lately?”

“I haven't seen Dorian since their dispute but I have talked to Blackwall. More than once. He is stubborn and unreasonable. I have been there. I saw how he had provoked the Tevinter. Still he only blames Dorian for the escalation.” Cullen made another sigh as he rubbed his temples in circular motions. “He promised me not to punch or stab the mage the next time they meet, however. I guess you could call that a progress.”

“Hm. I guess so.” The Bull studied the Templar with concern. “Hey Cullen, when was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday, I guess.” The blond man's expression was surprised and he actually had to think about it for a moment before he could answer the question. “It was midnight when I started to revise the training schedules.”

“I see... Listen, what would you think of taking the rest of the day off? I can take care of the recruitment and preparations for the reconstruction operation.”

“No.. I don't think that this is something that...” Cullen wanted to object but the Bull stared him down with a serious glare.

“You think that it's better to wait until you collapse? I don't want to step on your toes, but you look horrible. You should slow down.”

The blond Templar closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly arguing with himself behind those closed eyes. “Thank you for your offer. I will accept it and try to get some sleep. But I can't promise that I'll succeed.”

The Qunari smiled at that. He hadn't expected it to be so easy to change Cullen's mind. The Templar really must have been in a bad condition to give responsibility for an operation so easily out of hands. The Bull promised not to let him down on it and sent Cullen to his quarters right away.

 

After making sure that the Templar really did keep his word and went to his room and not somewhere else, the Iron Bull spent the rest of the day with finding out how exactly one prepared an official Inquisition operation. It always had been Cullen or Cassandra who took care of something like that. It wasn't hard to recruit the junior engineers and guards. They were familiar with military structure and the chain of commands and accepted the request without any questions. The squared oak beam was no problem either. Nor were the one hundred and seventy kegs of brown ale, even though the innkeeper did question the Iron Bull's motives twice.

The hardest task was to recruit ten strong workers that were willing to go on a risky mission that involved a mysterious beast and other dangers. He eventually found them in the tavern on the second floor. Second floor – ha! he'd never been there. Never made it further than the first one. Weird. Turned out that courage and valour could always be found at the bottom of a jar of brown ale. Chief Engineer Bernadine truly was a wise man.

After he had successfully recruited the last worker, the Iron Bull was rather proud of himself. He had finally gathered enough authority to prepare an official Inquisition operation. All by himself. No Cullen or Cassandra involved. He felt like he should call it a day and celebrate his new found competence. When he turned to the staircase he heard a sudden turmoil from somewhere behind him. A heated discussion, swearing and the loud sound of a door thrown shut with enough force to make the wood squeak. An enraged female nearly ran into him shortly after, as she descended the stairway in hasty steps. Followed by another bang of the door, this time caused by being kicked open.

“Did you seriously just threw the door shut right in my face???” Sera ran towards the railing and screamed after the woman. “Hey! Wait! You! Argh!!!” The Bull couldn't stop himself from laughing as he watched the rogue throwing insulting hand signs after the other female until she was out of sight.

“What did the bard do to you?” He was still chuckling as Sera finally noticed him.

“Oh. It's you. Well, it was rather about what I _didn't_ do to her. If you know what I mean.” She found her laugh again even though she still looked a little angry. But then again, she looked a little angry most of the time. Maybe this was her kind of 'normal'. “She's crazy. She wrote a song about me – did you know that? Why would anyone do something like that?”

“Sounds nice.” The Bull shrugged his shoulders as he followed Sera back to her door. “It's an honour if someone writes a song about you.”

“Pffh! You haven't heard the song. It's stupid. And she broke my fucking door!” She bent down to examine the damage and wistfully watched the door knob that fell off and down to the floor as soon as she touched it. “Stupid lunatic!”

“What? She's not you're type?” The Qunari had a wide grin on his face as he folded his arms and shifted his weight into a more comfortable stance.

“Well, no. Yes. Maybe. But she's so pushy. And crazy. Actually that's what I like about her, now that I'm thinking about it.” She kicked the door knob away without paying much attention to where it landed and leaned against the door frame. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean 'what do I want'?” The Bull lifted one eyebrow and looked down on the slender elf.

“Oh come on! You never simply come by to visit me here. Never sent flowers or a welcome basket...” She put drama in her words and clutched a hand over her heart. “You only show up when you need something.”

“I'm sorry. I was doing some recruiting up here when I ran into your little fight. Or your little fight ran into me.” The Bull gave Sera an apologetic smile.

“You? Doing some recruiting? Why so? Isn't that what Cully-wully is normally doing?”

“Yes, but the commander needed a little timeout. So I'm helping him out. I sent him to his quarters to get some sleep.”

“Good luck with that. Cullen-wullen wouldn't even listen to Cassandra lately. Did you know that he stopped taking lyrium? I bet that's tough.”

“Did he?” The Iron Bull was surprised. It was a new information and it explained why the Templar looked so pale an tarnished lately. It added even more reasons to keep an eye on Cullen and his health. He wondered how Sera was always the first one to know about things. She even made him doubt his own Ben-Hassrath skills sometimes. He wondered what else she knew. “Sera, have you seen Dorian lately?”

“Sure I have. Two days ago. I've heard of what had happened on the day of your return. Can you believe it? Everyone is still talking about it! As if it was any kind of their business. And yet they keep on talking. Everywhere. And it's not even true! I haven't been there, but I know Dorian. And I know Blackbeard. And everyone should know by now how mean he can be when he is all grumpy and grey-warden-y. Argh.” Sera kicked the opposite side of the door frame with her boot. “I'm thinking about bees right now. Bees in the stable.” She kicked the poor door frame again. “Anyway. I've visited Dorian in his rooms and wanted to hear his side of the story. Did you know that Blackwood questioned his motives towards the Inquisitor? I would have shoved an arrow up his arse if I were him. And put three more into his left eye just to make sure! ”

“Wait – you knew about Dorian and the Inquisitor's affair?” The Qunari cocked his head in surprise.

“Dah~! And so does Blackhead. Wait...” Sera turned around and looked at the Qunari. “Did you think you were the only one who had noticed that the both of them were having it off with each other?” She started to laugh, loud and shrill, and the Iron Bull felt dumb all of a sudden. Maybe it hadn't been as much of a secret as he thought it had.

“How is he doing? I haven't seen him anywhere around lately.” It felt weird and wrong that Sera knew more about the 'Vint's well-being than he did himself and he started to wonder if it really had been the right decision to leave the mage be and not check on him from time to time.

“Fine – given the circumstances. He spends most of his time with translating the Venatori book you found in the Highlands. His whole room was filled with notes and open books. Looked like a big fat collection of magic nonsense to me. I guess he tries to distract himself. The Inquisitor really screwed with his feelings this time.” She shrugged her slender shoulders and turned her attention back towards the broken door. “That was two days ago though. I'm sure he'll be back to his old marvellous self soon.” She kicked the door a few more times while she tried to somehow close it again. “Yep. That's definitely broken. I'll need a new one.”

“Thank you Sera. I'll make sure to come visit you every now and then from now on.” He smiled at her and nodded at the 'see you' hand sign she made before he turned around and headed to the lower floor of the tavern. The feeling of success had subsided and he didn't really feel like celebrating any longer. But since his Chargers had already gathered around their usual spot and since he already was at the tavern it would not be amiss to order a round of brown ale for him and his boys anyway.

 

It turned out that brown ale wasn't as bad as the Bull had suspected. It was rather refreshing and helped him cheer up again. As the evening passed he found himself ordering the forth round while he told his Charger's – once again – that he, the Iron Bull, had been in charge of Commander Cullen's duties today. It was only a reconstruction operation and there were no troops or scouts involved, but he made it sound respectable and glorious anyway. His boys cheered at him and made jokes about climbing the ladder of success when he noticed heads turning towards the opened door, staring at the man who entered the tavern.

It was Dorian. The Iron Bull's heart skipped a beat when he saw the mage scan his surroundings until his eyes fell on the Qunari. The 'Vint straightened his pose then and started to walk towards the table they were sitting at. He kept his poise and passed by the irritated and suspicious looks from the other people with as much grandeur as the Qunari was used to see him with. He had found his strength again. It was a relief. Yet still...

“Dorian! It's a pleasure to see you here.” He welcomed the mage with a smile and offered him a seat. He looked good. Perfect hair and perfect style. He wore a dark blue robe that looked rather expansive and showed off his arms and neck in a really nice way.

“I am here to take you up on your offer.” Dorian smiled at the Bull and sat down in front of him.

“You want to talk?” The Qunari rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer towards the 'Vint, studying him.

“No. I'm here for the drink you promised me.” The 'Vint seemed fraught and his expression was rather serious. He tried not to let it shine through but there was something he was holding back. “And maybe then we'll talk...”

“Okay, big guy. Whatever makes you comfortable.” The Bull wanted to order some more brown ale then but the mage just crinkled his nose at that and insisted on something stronger, so the Qunari ordered some whiskey instead. Dorian politely endured the Charger's questions and remarks about his dispute with Blackwall, but the Iron Bull shot them a warning glare as soon as Dorian's attention was distracted and changed the topic to something else.

Dalish brought up the reconstruction operation in the Exalted Plains then, swaggering about their captain's recruiting skills. The 'Vint asked for the details then, obviously more interested in the current situation in the Exalted Plains than in how the Bull had talked drunk people into risking their lives for the Inquisition.

“So the Inquisitor will return to Skyhold tomorrow?” Dorian studied the amber liquid in his glass while he let it swirl with slow circular motions of his wrist. “That's a pity. I haven't finished the translation of the Venatori book yet.” His voice was indifferent but the act of swallowing the rest of his glass' content in one big draught indicated that he wasn't as unconcerned about it as he pretended to be.

“Oh right, the translation. How's it going?” The Qunari watched as the other man stared into his empty glass for a moment before he remembered to focus on their conversation again.

“It's not going well, actually. Most texts are copied from much older books it seems. Those parts are written in old Tevene – which I do not understand, because no-one speaks it anymore. I pretty much doubt that the author knew the old tongue himself. He just copied it. Letter for letter and symbol for symbol.” Dorian rolled his eyes and made a derogatory gesture with his hand. “There were other notes in the book however which I could understand. I could build us our own ocularum now. If we had the skull of a tranquil. Which I am not so sad about that we don't have.”

“So those are tranquil's skulls on sticks?” The Iron Bull frowned. “I don't know why it makes a difference to me what kind of skull the Venatori used, but it's even more creepy now.” He wanted to ask more about the book and the shards but the Charger's conversation suddenly turned up on volume and their loud laughs and jokes made it hard to focus on anything else. “You want another drink?” The Qunari reached for Dorian's empty glass and got up while he nodded towards the bar.

“I really would appreciate it.” The mage got the hint and followed the other man to the bar, where he bought a whole bottle this time. They found an unoccupied corner that gave them at least some more privacy and sat down again. The 'Vint was good at ignoring the looks, the other people still threw at him, but the Bull wasn't, so he glared them down with an angry Qunari look in return.

“It's okay, really. Just ignore them. I've gotten used to it.” Dorian just fake smiled and held his empty glass towards the Bull so he could refill it.

“Used to it? You shouldn't be. Those people are morons that should mind their own business.” He shot another angry glare at two of them.

“I'm a Tevinter mage. Two things that aren't really popular with most people in this part of the world.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a slug of whiskey. “When I first came to Orlais, I've experienced much worse. Belief me. The reputation of my fellow countrymen always had preceded me. I really do regret this unhappy encounter with Blackwall though. I can't blame anyone but myself for that.” He took another draught and looked at the Bull with a wistful smile.

“You don't have to act the strong one. If something is shitty just say so. Don't say it's okay or that it's you're own fault.”

“Oh, I'm not acting. That's who I am. I've always been different. Not always in a good way, even in Tevinter. I couldn't fit in there, can't fit in here.” The mage just shrugged his shoulders. “ _Dorian Pavus – the man who couldn't fit in_. A great title for a biography, isn't it?” He let out a sigh and emptied his glass.

“Is this really what you think of yourself?” The Bull emptied his own glass then, trying to keep up with the 'Vint, before he poured them some more whiskey again.

“Honestly? I don't know. I'm questioning my decisions from time to time, but I wouldn't change myself if given the chance. So yeah, maybe that's who I am.”

“It is not. And you know it.” The Qunari smiled at Dorian and placed one hand on the mage's forearm. “I really like you, 'Vint. That's a rare thing for a Qunari to say. So you must at least do something right.”

Dorian just stared at the other man's hand for a while before he met his eyes again.

“Felix is dead.” The Iron Bull lost his smile at those word.

“I am sorry to hear that. He was Alexius' son, right? Were the two of you close?” He gave the other man's arm an compassionate squeeze before he pulled his hand back again.

“He was friend, a dear one. Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf.' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble.' He'd say.” Dorian's words got a sad undertone as he stared into the remains of whisky in his glass. “Tevinter could use more mages like him, those who put the good of others above themselves.”

“I know at least one other like him.” The Bull smiled at Dorian who looked a little surprised at first, then he returned the smile. It was a genuine one and the Qunari saw some gratitude in it.

They kept talking and drinking for some while then and the 'Vint finally started to open up more and more. He still held back various troubles and fears, the Iron Bull could tell, but he was more than happy to give Dorian all the attention and support he would allow him to give. Dorian did most of the talking this time and the Iron Bull just listened and gave him some assuring words every now and then. He told him about Tevinter and his life before he joined the Inquisition. The Iron Bull finally realised how hard it must have been for Dorian to turn Magister Alexius in. He had been like a father for him in a way that his real father seemingly hadn't been.

As the bottle's content drained constantly over the passing hours, the 'Vint finally lost his melancholy. Their conversation turned to less severe topics then and the effects of the alcohol mixed into a more relaxed mood. It was good to see Dorian laugh again. The situation reminded the Bull of times around the fireplace when they were out on a mission. Peaceful moments.

When they finally emptied the bottle, both of them were bladdered and the Bull already regretted the next morning. If he wanted to prove himself in front of Cullen he had to attend the departure of the reconstruction group and make sure none of the workers backtracked last minute. Maybe he should get some sleep soon. He stretched his neck and yawned before his eyes fell back on Dorian who somehow managed to sway while sitting, eyes heavy and tired.

“You fine? Need some sleep?” The mage looked up at him and just nodded before he attempted to get out of his chair.

“I'm perfectly fine. Sleep sounds great right now however.” The stronger Tevinter accent was back in Dorian's words again and the Bull couldn't help but smile a foolish little smile at it. He wouldn't admit, but he liked it.

Dorian nearly stumbled and fell over his own chair, but the Qunari caught him mid-air and offered him some support on their way out of the tavern. It was a beautiful night. The light of the full moon was illuminating the deserted courtyard and it wasn't even as cold as it normally used to be. The Iron Bull insisted on escorting Dorian on his way back to his quarters. It wasn't that he feared any encounters but he didn't want him to fall down the impressive stairway or maybe he just didn't want to bid goodnight already.

 When they reached the door that led to Dorian's rooms the 'Vint had some problems with unlocking it. He cursed at the key in Tevene and started to giggle at the seemingly included wordplay that the Iron Bull couldn't understand because – Tevene. After another attempt he finally succeeded.

“Thank you for the drink, the Iron Bull.” Dorian smiled at the other man as he let his back sink against the still closed door. “It was a rather nice evening. And thank you for... you know...”

“Any time, big guy...” The Qunari returned the smile and couldn't quite break away from Dorian's eyes right away. The 'Vint didn't break eye-contact either nor did he turn around and open the door. Before the Bull could make any decision to lean in closer towards the other man and maybe steal a kiss or leave it be and bid goodnight, Dorian made a surprised little sound as he accidentally pushed the handle with his elbow and the door swung open behind him. It sent him stumbling backwards into his room. The Iron Bull wanted to help and leaped after him but only succeed in throwing the other man down to the floor for real. He couldn't keep his own balance and fell right on top of the other man.

“Ooof... you're crushing me - again!” The 'Vint started to laugh and made no attempts to push the other one off him. “You're a rather clumsy drunk. Did anyone tell you that?”

“Tell that to yourself...” The Qunari shifted a little so he could support most of his weight on his forearms but he kept the other man pinned beneath him. Their laughs slowly subsided, then there was silence. The room was dark and only lit by the moonlight that fell through a small window.

Dorian's let his eyes wander over the Bull's face until they reached his horns with a hazy focus. He freed one arm from under the Qunari's weight so he could reach out for it. Hesitating for only a second, he let his fingertips glide over the left horn, studying its structure. He took his time, fascinated by the rough patterns on smooth surface and the Iron Bull just watched him, intrigued by the curiosity on the other man's eyes that made him look so much younger. The moonlight illuminated Dorian's face in a way that made it hard not to adore the fine sculptured facial structures. He was so damn pretty right now. Vulnerable and unconcealed.

When the 'Vint's eyes finally met his own again, the Bull couldn't hold back any longer. With a faint growl he leaned down and claimed Dorian's mouth in a rapturous kiss. The mage was caught off guard for only a split second, surprised by the sudden turn of events, then he returned the kiss. He let his fingers close tighter around the Bull's horn as he held on to it while freeing his other arm, then he slung it around the Qunari's neck.

It was a hungry kiss the Iron Bull had held back for longer than he would admit. Somewhere he knew that this wasn't the right time and that Dorian maybe was too drunk to make any decisions he wouldn't regret the next day, but something else inside him was stronger. Something unfamiliar - a need he couldn't control. He broke the kiss to gasp some air and let his forehead rest against Dorian's. He could feel the other's laboured breath hot against his lips and how the other's grip on his horn tightened even more.

The Qunari shifted his weight and placed both hands on the other man's shoulders. He let them slide along Dorian's arms, tracing the muscles with his fingers, until he reached his wrists and carefully closed his hands around them. Dorian let go of his horn then and watched as the Qunari slowly rose into a more straightened position. He guided the mage's arms back to the ground until they were resting crossed above his head, held in place by only one hand now. Then he placed the other on Dorian's chest and started to trace the button tab with his thumb. He was careful not to break eye contact even once, studying the 'Vint's reactions with every move he made. Dorian's eyes were hazy with want and alcohol. The silver of the moonlight mixed into it in a glowing reflection.

He started to unbutton the robe without paying too much attention to the buttons. Hastily he pulled the fabric aside and let his fingers glide over smooth skin on his belly and chest. The mage made a surprised intake of breath and the Bull could feel his muscles tensing under his touch.

“Ticklish?” The Qunari leaned back down to the other man again, lips close to his ear and the low rumbling sound of a small laugh made Dorian's arms squirm in his grip. The Bull let his jawline rub against the other's as he turned his head so he could start another hungry kiss. He let go of the 'Vint's wrists then and could feel the other man's arms around his neck an instant later. Careful not to crush him under his weight and without breaking the kiss, he started to rearrange their position until he was seated between the mage's legs. When he pressed down on the body below him with well calculated pressure, Dorian broke the kiss with a small groan that went right to the Iron Bull's groin. Sweet yet a little filthy – he would remember that sound. He repeated the movement a few times and bit his lower lip as a low growl resonated in his chest. He wanted more.

Without a warning he grabbed Dorian's legs and slung them around his hips, while he effortlessly lifted him up and got to his feet. The mage let out a surprised sound as he clung to the Bull's neck while being carried towards the bed. The Qunari started another kiss as he placed Dorian on the bed and leaned over him. As their lips parted, he could hear Dorian's words through a fiery haze. “I'm no trophy.”

The Qunari straightened his neck and searched for eye-contact. The mage looked right back at him and his lips formed a small but rather thin smile that made the Qunari frown.

“What do you mean?” He tried to read the strange melancholic expression that had started to manifest on the 'Vint's pretty face.

“The bet. I know about it...” He averted his eyes for a second before he looked back at the Bull. “...just don't tell your Chargers. I don't want to be part of that list.” Dorian's words hit him somewhere deep and left a bitter feeling behind. The bet had been Krem's idea. And first it had been nothing more than a drunk joke but then it became a drunk running gag and then one night drunk Dalish had started to make a list for real. That's when the others had started to bet on it. It was still a joke to him, but he had asked for the current number more than once. How stupid.

“Do you really think that's all that this is about? The stupid list?” The Qunari tried not to sound disappointed. If this was the picture Dorian had of him it was pretty much the Bull's own fault. He guided the mage's arms away from his neck and sat down on the bed frame, next to where the other man was lying on his back.

“How should I know?” Dorian rolled to his side and looked at the Bull with tired eyes. “I'm not good at interpreting things lately...”

“It is not about the list. Or a stupid bet.” The Bull just smiled at him and reached out for Dorian's hair. He let the soft streaks glide through his fingers as his thumb traced the 'Vint's cheekbone. The mage nodded in response and let his head sink into a pillow. He seemed much more tired and drunk than the Qunari had noticed before and when he leaned over the mage again, he decided to control the urge to kiss him and just grabbed a blanket to wrap it around the 'Vint instead. “I think we should delay this to another time. Good night, big guy.”

He watched Dorian fall asleep before he got up and closed the door behind him.

 

 

 


End file.
